


His Only Swallow

by RekaStormborn



Series: The Ties That Bind [3]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RekaStormborn/pseuds/RekaStormborn
Summary: How a turn of the century British boy came to learn his place in the world and met some of the stranger denizens of it.





	1. Prologue – Looking Back - 1706

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written with the intention of it being an original piece. It also happens to align with events in my series, which is why it’s included here. Only one character is not entirely my own invention, and I’ve even taken liberties with him. While he isn’t named in the piece, I’m sure you can figure it out if you’re familiar with the fandom. I have endeavored not to contradict canon directly (with the exception of one fact I have chosen to change).  
> Also, WARNING, by modern standards there will be some under-aged sex in this, though during the time period in which the story is set, that wouldn’t have been the case. I wanted to warn people in advance just in case.  
> I want to thank Nicola71 for being my beta reader for this when it originally posted to another site in 2011. She was invaluable in making this a better story than it would have been otherwise.

“Is everything prepared?” Jeremiah inquires as he joins Agron in their private study.

“Yes, exactly as you instructed,” Agron answers, still holding a handkerchief over the small cut he made in his wrist to gather a small goblet full of his own blood. The goblet sits on the large work surface next to a small bowl of wine, a large silver bowl full of water and a small box containing the herbs Jeremiah requires.

“You are too kind,” Jeremiah answers, moving to embrace his master before performing the ritual.

“You are doing me a great service tonight,” Agron counters. “It is not often Dracula allows one of us to select our own child to bring over.”

“I am sure you will find someone most appropriate,” Jeremiah answers with a soft smile as he leaves his master’s arms and walks the short distance to the table.

“Will it interfere with your magic if I look through your eyes?” Agron inquires, taking a seat in the far corner of the room.

“It may,” Jeremiah answers, frowning slightly. “Since we do not know, it may be better for me to share the scenes with you after I have seen them.”

“That is fine, Jeremiah,” Agron answers. “Draw whatever you need from me tonight. I am not needed and have an additional donor available in case you need more power than last time.”

“It is possible,” Jeremiah answers before turning his attention to the silver bowl. He pours the wine in first, praying in his native language, which is now long forgotten in the world except for a few words surviving in Scots and Gaelic.

The prayer continues as he sprinkles herbs in a circle over the bowl. Agron can see the water beginning to glow softly in the dim room and feel the magic of his Servant. The blood is last and Jeremiah’s words fade away into a hushed humming as he gazes into the bowl and sees things from other times and places.

Agron watches over his beloved friend as Jeremiah scries for him. Perhaps his next child will be the lovely Scottish girl Jeremiah always catches glimpses of. He yearns for something or someone that will be a piece of his home here in London.

The night wears on, and Agron remains still in his corner, feeling the slow drain on his own power as Jeremiah seeks for the person Agron must find.

It is only an hour before dawn when Jeremiah finally moves, sagging as he blinks rapidly at the room around him.

Agron is by his side instantly, cradling him close and soothing his sore muscles.

“He will be a wonderful addition to our little family, and very important one day, like the Scottish girl. They will be such friends when we find her.”

“I am glad,” Agron answers.

“Let me show him to you,” Jeremiah almost pleads.

“Of course, dear friend,” Agron answers, lowering his shields so that his Servant can show him what the silver bowl gave him this night.


	2. Chapter 1 – Six years old – Whispers in the Dark - 1696

“He’s so precious,” a lovely brunette murmured from the doorway, gazing at the child asleep on the bed in the corner.

“He is,” a blonde replied from the bed by the door. “I’m just glad she had a little boy,” she added, gazing at the lovely golden brown curls spread across the pillow.

“If only she’d been able to see how lovely he is,” the brunette answers. “She always wanted a beautiful little boy.”

“ _He_ hasn’t asked for him to work yet, has he?” the blonde asks in a cautious whisper.

“No, we’re all careful to keep him out of sight. As long as _he_ forgets the boy is here, he’s safe yet.”

“Good,” the blonde said with relief.

“ _He_ ’d have asked for a girl already,” the brunette replied.

“I know,” the blonde sighed, still gazing at the boy in the corner. “That man hasn’t been lately, has he?” she asked, glancing up at her fellow.

“No, not for a few years.”

“Good. If he ever comes back, we have to make sure he never sees her little boy. He’d offer enough money to turn any man’s head.” They both knew all to well what happened when the master was offered enough money to turn his head. Neither wanted to see the boy sold away to a man who would use him ill.

“We all promised her that, luv,” the brunette replied. “As soon as we realized he would look so much like her.”

“I just wish we could keep him safe forever,” the blonde said with a sigh. “I don’t want to see him go.”

“None of us do, luv,” the brunette agreed, stepping into the room to caress the other woman’s hair.

Neither woman knew that the boy’s large gray eyes were wide and staring at the wall while he listened to them talk. It wasn’t the first time he’d overheard them discussing his fate, their regret about his mother, or his beauty, and it wouldn’t be the last either.


	3. Chapter 2 – Nine years old – A Job for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Custom” as it is used in this chapter, is synonymous to the modern “business” in the sense that a store is open for business, and customers bring in business. This is a more archaic term, to fit with the time period of the piece.

“Get back out of sight,” the master yelled, cuffing the side of the boy’s head and sending him scurrying away.

“There you are,” the same lovely brunette said in relief when he appeared in the back hall again.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry, Auntie,” the boy replied quickly.

“It’ll be alright, luv,” Eliza answered, smiling. “You just stay back here out of sight, remember?”

“Yes, Auntie,” he said solemnly, lowering his head so she wouldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. He liked to see the fine clothes the men wore when they came in and imagine how his father might have looked in his own fine clothes. The kitchen girl and the boys in the street made sure he knew that his mother was one of the master’s whores even if his aunties never spoke of his parents.

“Run along now, luv. You know we all have to attend to our work now,” Eliza said giving him a little push toward the back room where all the women slept during the day.

He hurried away to the dark room and crawled onto the bed in the corner they’d given over to him. It had been his mother’s bed before it was his and that always gave him comfort. Some nights he could almost feel the warmth of her beside him, curled around his smaller form to protect him.

Sleep claimed him as it usually did while the women were working. It was safer for him to be about the house during the day when the master was sleeping, than at night when the place was bustling with custom.

“Little love?” A soft and gentle murmur woke him.

“Auntie?” he asked, rolling over and rubbing his eyes.

“I saw you slip out into the front rooms tonight,” she said gently.

“I was staying out of sight,” he promised quickly.

“I know. You promised me you would after the first time I caught you,” she answered, stroking her hand through his tumble of brown ringlets.

“But you’re still mad at me,” he murmured back. She never touched his hair unless she was mad at him. All his other aunties loved to pet his curls but not her.

“The master saw you,” she said, her hand resting just above his left ear where the master cuffed him earlier. “No more sneaking up front,” she commanded.

“Yes, Auntie,” he said miserably.

“I’m going to suggest a job for you,” she went on. “It will let you be out front, and get you a nice little suit to wear, but you have to promise me that you will do exactly as you are told, and only say what the master tells you to, understand?”

“I understand, Auntie.” He gazed up at her with his big gray eyes and wondered what job she was going to get him.

“Good,” she answered with a tender smile for him. “Tomorrow, you wake me up around noon, little love. I need to fix your hair so you’ll look good in your new suit.”

“Yes, Auntie,” he said, smiling back for her. She always touched his cheek when he smiled, and sometimes it felt like his mother touched him in the moment after his auntie’s hand left.

“Sleep well, little love,” she instructed, leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

He smiled, his eyes closed, as she pulled away, and he could feel that phantom kiss that followed hers.

“She’ll never be gone as long as she’s in your heart,” his auntie murmured softly before walking away to her own bed by the door.

Staring after her for a moment, he wondered how she knew. He’d never told anyone about the feelings he sometimes got about his mother still being there with him. Still wondering about his auntie, he rolled over to face the wall. He couldn’t sleep unless he was looking at that comfortingly familiar wall right before he closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 3 – Two weeks later – New Clothes and Shortened Curls

The boy tried not to fidget with his hair or his new clothes. The suit was like the one the master wore, only it had short trousers that hung loose above his knees instead of long ones that fasten under the knee. The stockings felt odd and the shoes had heels. He wasn’t sure where his aunties managed to find the shoes. They even had real silver buckles.

“He’ll do,” the master said after yet another slow circle to inspect him.

“We have instructed him on what he will need to know,” his auntie answered calmly. She’d always been the one that talked to the master for the others. They looked up to her, not because she was the oldest, but because she was the strongest willed of them.

“Then show him his place,” the master answered, stalking out of the parlor.

“You remember what we taught you, little love?” his auntie asked, smiling down at him gently.

“Yes, Auntie,” he answered dutifully, his hand going to his hair again.

“You don’t like them so short do you?” she asked indulgently, her hand coming up but not quite touching his curls.

“They don’t feel right,” he answered. It was like part of his head was missing.

“As you get older you can wear them a bit longer,” his auntie promised. “For now, we have to make sure no one mistakes you for a little girl, that’s all.”

He nodded solemnly. He knew what would have happened if he’d been a girl. The street boys were very descriptive about it. Several of them bragged about having done just that to the kitchen girls and others. He found the idea repulsive but never let them know it.

“Off you go to the door now, little love,” his auntie urged, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Auntie,” he repeated, hurrying to his station to welcome the gentlemen and take their coats. He’d start with that, and as they approved his skills, he could offer assistance upstairs when the gentlemen needed to put their fine clothes back to rights. He knew how to fasten up a woman’s clothes--he’d been doing that for years to help his aunties. Men’s clothes were an entirely different matter, but he was looking forward to learning how to fasten and arrange everything properly.


	5. Chapter 4 – Twelve years old – An Offered Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary Notes:  
> “Custom” as it is used in this chapter, is synonymous to the modern “business” in the sense that a store is open for business, and customers bring in business. This is a more archaic term, to fit with the time period of the piece.  
> “Nemmo” (plural “neemos”) is a Cockney back-slang term for a woman. My research has dated it as being used in the Victorian period and probably in Georgian times as well. If there is a language expert out there who notices me using the term incorrectly, I’d be happy to hear it so I can fix things.

“Hey, Swallow, come here,” one of the gang called from the mouth of the alley.

The boy looked up from the cobbles at his feet as he moved back toward the door with the chamber pot from the room he shared with his aunties. The gang of lads was fairly new to their little neighborhood. So far, none of them had come after him like the other street boys, but he was still wary.

“Yes, you, Swallow. Come here,” the tallest of the gang of lads demanded again, waving him over. His hair was white, like the feathers that came out of the pillows in the upstairs rooms.

Setting the chamber pot next to the door, the boy walked slowly forward. He was still small for his age, and most of the boys that ran about the neighborhood as a pack were several years older than him and this new gang was older still.

“Why so timid, Swallow?” the white-haired lad asked.

The boy didn’t answer, he just stared up at them from a few feet away. He might have been small, but he could run faster than anyone in the master’s establishment. There was little doubt in his mind that he could make it back inside before the gang of lads if they chased him.

“You lot go around the corner,” the white-haired lad commanded.

“As you like, Dove,” a few of them murmured in reply.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Swallow,” Dove said, walking toward him with his hands stretched out to show they were empty.

“What you want then?” the boy asked, taking a step back for each of the other boy’s steps forward.

“Just a little chat, that’s all,” Dove promised, coming to a halt and lowering his arms to his sides. “Why don’t you want me any closer?”

“Don’t know you,” the boy replied. “Don’t have good luck with strangers,” he added, taking another small step back.

“I’d heard that, Swallow,” Dove answered with a smile. “See, I wanted to make you a little offer about that.”

“What kind of offer?” the boy asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The customers were always making offers to the master for his aunties.

“A little arrangement for my lads if you can manage it,” Dove explained. “And if you do, we make sure no one hurts you none.”

“Arrangement?” The boy took another step back. Arrangements usually meant someone was gone from the master’s place for several weeks and came back worse off for it.

“You talk to some of the nemmos in there, and get them to agree to a little custom on the side. We keep it all quiet, just between you and them nemmos, and me and my lads. The master in there is never the wiser, and the nemmos get a little coin of their own for a change.”

“And if they don’t agree?” the boy asked, a frown set on his usually angelic features.

“Then no one owes no one nothing,” Dove answered. “You shouldn’t frown so, Swallow,” he added. “You’ve too pretty a face for a look like that.”

“I’ll ask, but I ain’t promising nothing,” the boy answered, ignoring the other comments.

“Perfect,” Dove said, smiling wide. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at noon to discuss things. You can bring one of the nemmos, if you like, to settle their part of it.”

“Tomorrow,” the boy replied, nodding once and backing toward the door. Much to his relief, the white-haired lad they called Dove stayed where he was and let him slip inside unaccosted.

“What took so long, little love?” his auntie asked when he came back in, her fingers brushing his curls once before dropping away again.

“That new gang was at the mouth of the alley,” he answered softly.

“Did they hurt you?” she demands, tilting his chin up and quickly examining his face before running her hands down his arms.

“No, they didn’t touch me,” he promised her, stopping her hands before they could explore the rest of him.

“Then why?” she asked, perplexed at what the little rabble would want if they didn’t harm the sweet lad before her.

“Not here,” he answered.

With a hand on the boy’s back, the stunning blonde quickly escorted him back to the room they shared with all the other women in the master’s employ.

The boy was startled by the prolonged physical contact from his auntie, especially when she took the chamber pot from his hands, sat him down on her own bed by the door, and then sat beside him with an arm around his shoulders. She never touched him this much. It was always his other aunties who held him when he needed it.

“What’s the matter?” the brunette in the next bed asked.

“Is he hurt?” his red-haired auntie asked from across the room.

“No, he’s fine, Grizella,” his auntie answered, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Then what’s the matter?” the brunette persisted.

“Tell me what that rabble wanted,” his auntie instructed gently.

“An arrangement,” he answered softly, his eyes flickering around the room to see all his aunties watching them before fixing them on his own knees.

“Arrangement?” his auntie prompted.

“The white-haired one, they called him Dove,” he explained. “He made the others go away so I’d stay and talk to him instead of bolting back inside.”

“That was considerate of him,” the brunette says with a snort.

“Eliza, hush,” his auntie commanded before turning back to him. “And what did Dove want to talk about?”

“He said he’d heard I had trouble when I went out, said he and his lads would make sure I didn’t anymore if I’d help them make an arrangement.”

“With us?” Grizella asked.

“He called you ‘nemmos.’” he answered softly. “Wanted an arrangement between you and his lads and the master never the wiser. Said you’d have coin of your own then.”

“They plan on paying?” Eliza asked, sounding startled.

“What did you tell him?” his Auntie asked, stroking his arm.

“When he said nothing would happen if you didn’t want an arrangement I said I’d talk to you but couldn’t promise and he let me come inside.”

“You did very well, little love,” his auntie said, kissing his hair before looking out at the room.

“As long as they’re paying, and the master never finds out,” Grizella said softly.

“And the first time one of us turns up with any mark the deals off,” another auntie added.

“We set the price and get paid in advance,” someone else chimed in.

“How were you to give him your answer?” his auntie asked.

“Said he’d be in the alley tomorrow at noon and I could bring one of you to negotiate everything.”

“Do you trust me to get a fair bargain from them?” his auntie asked the room.

“I’d rather not,” Eliza said softly.

“No girl goes unless they want to,” his auntie answered. “Only volunteers.”

“We know you’ll get us good terms,” a blonde near the back of the room piped up.

“We trust you,” another agreed.

The room erupted in nods and murmured agreements.

“I’ll go with him tomorrow,” his auntie declared. “As long as they keep to their end of the bargain, we’ll discreetly offer custom.”

That seemed to settle the matter and most of the women rolled over and went back to sleep again.

“Will you be our messenger for this?” his auntie asked him softly.

“You can’t bring him into this anymore than we already have,” Eliza protested.

“He’s already in our world, Eliza. And if he’s our messenger, then harm to him from them will negate the agreement, too. They’re the type that would only protect him from others, not themselves.”

“I don’t mind, Auntie,” he chimed in. “As long as they promise not to hurt me and keep their end of the promise to keep others away if I helped with an arrangement.”

“Alright, little love,” his auntie said, hugging him close for a moment. “Tomorrow we’ll go speak to this Dove then and see what we can arrange. For today, run along and have a little fun if you can.”

“Yes, Auntie,” he said, smiling before hopping off her bed and scurrying from the room. It was only during daylight hours that he was allowed to explore the rooms upstairs and look at the fine dresses and other treasures in the wardrobes of the rooms where the women entertained their customers.


	6. Chapter 5 – The Next Day – Birds of a Feather

“Let me do all the talking, little love,” his auntie instructed before they stepped into the alley together. She wore a brown dress with a collar that came all the way to her chin and had her golden ringlets fastened into a tight bundle at the base of her neck.

“Good to see you again, Swallow,” Dove said with a grin from where he stood across from the door leaning against the alley wall. “And a pleasure to meet you, Lady,” he added, giving a sweeping bow.

“Some of the others are willing to make an arrangement, with the right conditions,” his auntie answered the boy.

“And what would your conditions be then, Lady?” Dove asked, resuming his casual lean against the wall.

“All communication will be done through our lad,” she begins, motioning to the boy beside her. “He is to come to no harm from you and yours, and you will live up to the promise you made him yesterday.”

“Easily done,” Dove answered with a nod.

“It’ll be three for the standard, and we set the cost for anything else you ask for with your coin in advance.”

“Also easily done,” Dove answers with an easy smile.

“The first mark left on any girl and the entire arrangement is off. The master inspects often and at random and none of us can risk discovery.”

“We wouldn’t dream of hurting you or any of yours, Lady,” Dove assured her. “My lads understand the rules.”

“We can’t allow any of you to pass inside,” his auntie added calmly.

“We’ve an arrangement with the inn here,” Dove says, rapping on the wall he’s leaning against. “We’ve a room that’s ours and the master of the place lets us come and go by this back way,” he continued, indicating a door closer to the entrance of the alley.

“Then we have an arrangement,” his auntie said, stepping forward and offering her hand to the lad.

“That we do, Lady,” he said, smiling as they shook hands on it like men. “It’ll be nice to see Swallow about more now,” he added as he resumed leaning on the wall.

“Swallow?” she questioned.

“Well, names ain’t always safe, especially for our lot, so I’m Dove, and my lads are my sparrows. He’s Swallow,” Dove said, pointing to the boy. “See, the place always swallows him right back up before the sun can tan that lily skin he’s got.”

The boy was surprised when his auntie stepped in front of him, her voice low and menacing as she spoke to Dove.

“I find a hair on his head out of place because of you, and I’ll make sure the master finds marks on me that came from your hands,” she practically hissed.

“Easy, Lady,” Dove said, his hands up and palms open. “I’d never lay an unwanted hand on Princess’s boy.”

His auntie stepped back, moving the boy with her. “Who do you mean by Princess?” she demanded.

“Always assumed you were her sister, same pretty blue eyes, different color curls. She was always Princess, and you were always Lady. Was sad to see her go and sadder when I heard how. That’s why we brought our offer here,” Dove explained.

The boy peeked out around his auntie’s side.

“We respect you lot for taking care of Princess’s boy. Some of my lads keep an eye on places, and you bunch are the only ones that cared enough to look after a child that weren’t even yours. Most of us ended up on the street because others won’t.”

“Most of you?” she asked, her voice softer and no longer angry.

“Every single one of us came into this world the same way Swallow did,” Dove answered. “I’m the only one didn’t end up out here because my ma died. Mine just sent me on my way when I was old enough to find my own employment.”

“We’ll keep to our end, and you keep to yours,” she said firmly, turning without letting Dove get another look at the boy.

The boy did manage to get a last glimpse of Dove before his auntie shut the door behind them and held him close against her, his head pressed into her stomach.

“He spoke the truth,” his auntie said softly. “Your mother was my sister. She had the same eyes but her curls were like yours instead of mine,” she murmured, one hand on his back holding him close and the other stroking those rich brown curls. “I loved her dearly, and she saved me often when we were young and just beginning. I swore I’d protect you for as long as I possibly could when she realized she was going to have you. When you were born, the others fell in love with you, too, and we all promised her we’d take care of you and keep you safe from the master and anyone else.”

“You have,” he murmured back, hugging her tight and squeezing his eyes shut. That must be why she knew about his mother’s phantom touches. She could still feel his mother, too.

“I fear I haven’t today,” she answered.

“He promised, and I’ll tell you if he breaks it,” he swore to her.

“I know, little love,” she said softly, still stroking his hair. They stayed that way for a long moment before returning to their room, so she could inform the others of the arrangement made with Dove.


	7. Chapter 6 – Fourteen years old – Sir William’s Treatment

“Haven’t seen much of you lately, Swallow,” Dove says when the boy comes out of the door with the chamber pot one morning. For three years, he saw Swallow every morning with that chamber pot, then for the past eight days in a row, one of the women brought it out.

“Haven’t been out much,” Swallow answered. He liked the name the older boy had given him more than his own. It was supposed to have been his father’s name, and he didn’t want anything to do with the man.

“Why not?” Dove asked, ducking so he could get a better look at the younger boy. He’d taken quite a liking to Swallow. Some of his lads had grumbled about it, but the black eye and twisted arm the last one had gotten shut them all up.

Swallow turned his head so Dove couldn’t see the lingering bruise across his eye.

“That ain’t like you , Swallow,” Dove said quietly, shifting a little back from the boy. “Let me help you with that,” he continued, taking the chamber pot and quickly walking it to the back of the alley, dumping it, and returning to crouch in front of Swallow before he could turn away. “Where’d you get those bruises?” Dove asked, having caught sight of the yellow and green around Swallow’s eye.

“The master,” Swallow answered softly. He’d been doing his usual job, helping one of the customers back into his fine clothes, when the customer pushed him up against the wall and groped at him. He’d made too much noise resisting and the master had come in, cuffed him hard and sent him back to his room for the night. His aunt hadn’t let him out of their room until this morning and had her own bruises from the master for it. Now that the bruises could be covered with the paint the women sometimes used, they were both back to work tonight.

“What’d he hit you for?” Dove asked, his fingers hovering just shy of touching Swallow’s cheek under the bruise.

“Made too much noise when a customer grabbed at me,” Swallow whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“Which customer?” Dove asked, careful to keep the anger out of his voice. The lads had all promised to protect the boy from anyone in their area of control. Dove had promised to protect him from others, and meant to do so.

“He’s a lord’s son, and the master always calls him Sir William.”

“I think I know the one,” Dove says, smiling to reassure Swallow. “You let me know if anyone else gets rough with you, right?”

Swallow nodded.

“Run on in, I’m sure you’re aunties are worrying after you.”

Swallow slipped back inside, and Dove sauntered back to the road. He knew about Sir William. Some of his lads had a run in with the man once at another brothel in their territory. Dove had a little chat with the man and he left the lads alone. It seemed that Sir William had forgotten their arrangement.

Dove smiled as he saw his sparrows coming to join him. They’d take care of the master for him, and he could go see Sir William. Dove smiled, relishing the challenge ahead.


	8. Chapter 7 – Later that day – A Gift of Pigeons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nemmo” (plural “neemos”) is a Cockney back-slang term for a woman. My research has dated it as being used in the Victorian period and probably in Georgian times as well. If there is a language expert out there who notices me using the term incorrectly, I’d be happy to hear it so I can fix things.  
> Also, I’m using “queer” in the older sense where it’s a synonym for “strange.”

“He’s in a state,” Eliza said breathlessly as she hurried back into the room clutching her torn dress around her. “Someone got in this afternoon, left something he didn’t like.”

“Where’s the lad?” Grizella panted, hurrying in at the other woman’s heels.

“I’m here,” Swallow answered softly.

“Send him out to the alley,” Grizella advised, her eyes on his aunt. “When we made that arrangement,” she whispered, awe filling her voice.

“What are you talking about?” his aunt demanded, pulling him in against her side.

“Pigeons,” Eliza said. “They left piles of dead pigeons.”

“Sweet lord,” his aunt breathed, glancing down at him. “You’re certain?” she asked the two women.

“Absolutely,” Grizella answered. “I saw two of them smiling in the window and that white-haired one was going into the alley.”

“Go on, little love,” his aunt said, crushing him to her in a tight hug before releasing him. “They’ll keep you out of sight and safe until the master calms down.”

Swallow nodded, and hurried out to the alley, creeping cautiously around the boxes in the dark.

“In here, Swallow,” Dove said softly from the door to the inn that shared the alley with them.

Swallow crossed the alley and stepped into the inn with Dove. It was the first time he’d been anywhere besides the alley, the master’s place, and a few surrounding streets.

“The master get our message?” Dove asked with a smirk.

“Pigeons?” Swallow asked nervously.

“I made a promise,” Dove said, motioning Swallow ahead of him into a small room with a sturdy bed, a table big enough for ten or more of the lads and a little table by the bed with a lantern.

“To who?” Swallow asked, confused about what had happened next door and why his aunt sent him away.

“I made a promise to Lady, and I’ll keep it.”

“What?” Swallow asked, still confused as he turned to face the older lad.

“I promised you’d be safe from others,” Dove answered, risking a small touch to Swallow’s cheek. “I meant that.”

Swallow’s mouth dropped open before he clamped it shut again. Dove had done all this for him? But why?

Dove smiled gently, wishing he could really touch the delicate boy before him. “Why don’t you have a seat, Swallow,” he invited. “You’re likely to be here most of the night, might as well get comfortable.”

Swallow pulled one of the chairs a little away from the table and pulled his feet up against his chest when he sat.

Dove was amazed at how little space the boy took up. He was at least thirteen years old now, and still he was small.

“So you punished the master because he hit me?” Swallow asked, resting his chin on his knees as he watched Dove pull out another chair and turn it backwards, resting his arms across the back so he could face Swallow.

“I sent him a message. We saw the bruises on Lady, too. He ain’t the first one we’ve had to remind not to mistreat his nemmos. We may seem like rabble to people like the master, but we’re well organized and we get what we want.”

“You asked about the customer,” Swallow remembered, wondering if Dove had done something to him too.

“Sir William forgot our arrangement,” Dove replied, grinning smugly. He’d enjoyed his chat with the young noble. Especially the part about what would happen to the man’s ability to visit such establishments as he now frequented if Dove ever heard a whisper that he’d laid a hand on Swallow or any other lad in his dominion ever again.

“You had an arrangement?” Swallow asked with is gray eyes wide.

“He tried what he planned with you on some of my lads a while back. We had a chat, and he left mine alone. Either he chose to be very narrow in his interpretation of what’s mine, or he didn’t think I’d know about you.”

“Yours?” Swallow asked, wondering how Dove considered him in that equation.

“Well, to be honest, I consider everyone in my territory to be mine. Even the constables know that if something bad happens here, we’ll know who it was and give them up. People like the master think we’re rabble and dangerous, but we keep the place relatively safe.”

“Oh,” Swallow said, dropping his eyes. He’d begun to think Dove might have cared at least a little bit about him personally.

“Most people had already figured out that I’d taken a special interest in you, but the master over there never has taken us very seriously. He will now.”

“Special interest?” Swallow squeaked. When his aunties talked about someone taking a special interest in one of them it was always something bad.

“I want you safe,” Dove answered, puzzled by Swallows sudden nervousness. “What’d you think I meant?”

Swallow ducked his head. “It’s just…the words…” He trailed off nervously. What if Dove was insulted?

“Special interest bothers you?” Dove asked gently, trying to coax words out of the suddenly reticent younger boy.

“When one of the customers has a special interest in one of them it’s a bad thing,” Swallow admits quietly.

“Not that kind of special interest,” Dove assured the younger boy. “I’m not going to ask you for anything you aren’t willing to give.”

Swallow’s brow furrowed. Not willing to give? What was Dove going to ask then?

Seeing the confusion on the younger boys face, Dove silently cursed himself. Now he’d insinuated that he’d be asking for something eventually.

“You hungry, Swallow?” Dove asked, getting to his feet.

Swallow shook his head. You never asked for food. It was one of the first rules he learned as a child.

Dove studied him for a second before turning for the door. “I am, so I’ll be right back. No one will bother you. The lads know you’re staying here tonight.”

Swallow curled up even smaller in the chair when Dove closed the door. Except in the room he shared with his Aunties, he’d never really been alone for more than a few minutes and never in a strange place.

Dove made his way to the kitchen and charmed two large bowls of stew off the kitchen girls. He knew for a fact the younger of the two wanted to take a tumble in the sheets with him, but he’d never take her up on it. The lads all thought he had some rich lady he visited, and Dove made sure to encourage the rumors. He’d lose them all, and everything he’d built with them, if they found out it was a rich lord he visited when he disappeared for a while. Sighing softly, he took the food back to the room.

Swallow’s head came up fast when he smelled the food Dove brought back with him. His mouth watered, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot food.

“There’s no way you aren’t hungry, skinny as you are,” Dove declared setting a bowl on the table where Swallow’s chair had been and setting the other two chairs down for himself.

Swallow stared at the bowl of stew. He’d never eaten so much at once in his whole life.

“Don’t be shy,” Dove coaxed. “Eat up.”

Swallow got up and pulled his chair back to the table. His eyes darted back to Dove as he picked up the spoon and began to eat.

“That’s a good boy,” Dove said with a smile. He’d have to remember to feed the skinny lad as often as possible from now on. His quick answer that he wasn’t hungry coupled with his reaction to the food made it pretty obvious that the master wasn’t feeding him proper.

Swallow dropped his eyes back to the stew and ate quietly. He’d never realized before that he only interacted with his aunties, the master, and the customers. Even over the last three years, he’d only added Dove, and then only in small bits of conversation between messages from the lads to the women. He didn’t know how to act around Dove now that they weren’t having furtive conversations in the alley.

“You don’t have to go hungry if you don’t want,” Dove told Swallow when they were both finished eating. “The inn always has extra food, and lets the lads and I have what they can’t give their lodgers. We’ve got enough to give you a share if you ever want it.”

“Thank you,” Swallow murmured with his eyes on the table as Dove took his bowl.

“You can relax, stretch out on the bed, even take a nap if you want,” Dove offered. “I’ll be back after I drop off the dishes.”

Swallow nodded, waiting until the door closed to get up, set his shoes next to the door, and crawl onto the bed. He stayed on top of the blankets and curled up facing the wall. He’d never be able to sleep, but maybe if he pretended then it wouldn’t feel so queer being alone with Dove in a strange room.

Closing his eyes, Swallow relaxed his shoulders and slowed his breathing. He had plenty of practice pretending to be asleep. He’d spent most of his childhood listening to the women talk when they thought he was asleep.

Dove came back to find Swallow curled up on top of all the blankets, sound asleep by the look of it. The lad didn’t even take up a quarter of the bed. Shaking his head, Dove untucked the blankets and gently covered the smaller boy. If you just saw his face, Swallow looked a bit like one of the chubby baby angels Dove had seen painted in a church once.

With Swallow asleep, Dove finally allowed himself to touch one of those perfect little curls, and the hair was even softer than he imagined it would be. He let himself rub the hair gently between his fingers for a moment, wishing he could touch the beautiful boy just once.

Dove tucked the blanket snuggly around the sleeping form and went back to the door. He looked back once before opening it, and waving one of his sparrows over.

“Stay close in case he wakes up. I’ll be in the alley if he does.”

“I never realized how skinny he was,” the lad answered.

“Neither did I,” Dove answered, glancing back at Swallow. “Keep him safe while I go talk to the master.”


	9. Chapter 8 – Moments later – Penalties and Protections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A “hackney” is a hired coach, usually a fairly cheap one. And as a reminder, “nemmo” is a slang term for woman.

Dove leaned against the wall across from the alley door and waited. He knew that as soon as the customers were settled, the master would be out looking for him, and he didn’t plan on being very hard to find. He didn’t even have long to wait as the plump man stormed into the alley with his face red and his fists clenched.

“You will pay for what you did to my parlors,” the master said with real venom.

“That so?” Dove drawled before laughing. “And what do you think would happen if Sir William’s father found out where his son has been spending his evenings? Or Sir Gregory for that matter?”

Dove smiled as all the blood drained from the master’s face.

“My lads know every customer who walks through your doors,” he explained, still grinning. “Anything happens to me tonight, or any night, and each and every one of them will never come back. You lay a hand on that boy, or any of your nemmos again, and I’ll personally make sure that every lord’s son is ratted out to their father. I might even mention that you’ve been trying to pin them as the father of children you get on your own girls.”

“You little…” The master’s voice was choked with rage, but he didn’t do anything more than shake his fist at Dove before disappearing back into his establishment.

Dove relaxed against the wall again. Closing his eyes, he thought about how soft Swallow’s hair was and smiled. The door opening again brought his head up, his muscles tensing, reading to fight or run depending on who came out the door.

“You take your promise very seriously,” Lady said, gliding into the alley in her work clothes with a silk robe wrapped around her shoulders to hide herself from view.

“Always have and always will,” he answered quickly.

“And the boy?” she asked.

Dove had noticed that no one ever used Swallow’s real name, and it made him wonder.

“He’s asleep after what looked like his first decent meal,” Dove answered. “I’ve told him we have extra to share, but I’m not sure he’ll ask for it.”

“Probably not,” Lady replied with a smile. “He never asks for anything.”

“If he won’t, just have the others let us know if we need to send some back for him.”

“I don’t understand why you are being so kind to him,” Lady said, and he could see the suspicion behind her eyes even though her expression didn’t change.

“He’s a sweet lad,” Dove answered with a shrug. “With you lot looking after him and my lot keeping him safe enough, he might have a chance at something better than I’ve got. I’d like to see one of the lads make it out of here and he’s the most likely to be able to do it.”

“I don’t think that’s why you’re doing it,” Lady countered. “Your sparrows may believe that, but I’ve seen you watch him when you think no one can see you.”

Dove fought to keep his face blankly amused. He didn’t want the Lady to accuse him of anything.

“You kept your promise to protect him from others,” she continued, studying his face. “Will you keep your promise to protect him from yourself?” She held his eyes, letting him read the knowledge there. She knew that he wanted her nephew the way most men wanted a woman and she didn’t judge him for it.

“I swore I’d never lay an unwanted hand on him and I won’t,” Dove answered firmly. No matter how much he wanted Swallow, he’d never take anything the lad didn’t offer. He knew that meant he’d never have him the way he really wanted, but he’d accepted that three years ago when he made the promise.

“I already told you that he never asks for anything,” Lady replied.

“I know,” Dove answered, letting his gaze fall away from her for a moment. He knew what could happen if you got caught at something like he wanted. He’d seen two boys beaten to death just for touching each other in an alley. He’d heard about a man who was left to bleed to death in the gutter after they cut off his manhood when someone found him using a boy.

“Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Lady told him.

When Dove looked up she was smiling.

“He has no men in his life except the master and you,” she went on. “Perhaps you can teach him to discover what he wants.”

Dove blinked at her.

“We all talk to each other,” she explained, waving toward the building behind her. “Some of them have told me how you and your lads help the younger ones and teach them. Perhaps someone will help you teach him too.”

Dove nodded. He’d never expected to be give permission for something like that. Especially not from someone as protective as Lady. She was fierce in the defense of the nemmos she worked with and down right frightening in defense of her nephew. He’d heard about the argument she had with the master over Sir William’s grabbing at Swallow.

“Don’t you have someone tonight?” Dove asked, his brow knitting. Sir William usually came by three or four nights in a week and Lady was his favorite.

“He didn’t show tonight. I expect you had something to do with that,” Lady replied.

“Bloody hell,” Dove cursed, racing back into the inn without explanation. He could hear the soft sound of Lady’s slippers behind him as he ran to the room. Three of his lads lay senseless on the floor and the door wasn’t shut tight.

Dove burst into the room, his anger carrying him to the bed and giving him the strength to hurl the older man off the bed and into the table and chairs. His eyes glanced over Swallow enough to see that his clothes were still on before returning to Sir William.

Lady hurried to the bed, gathering Swallow in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw the knife in Dove’s hand.

“I told you what would happen,” Dove nearly growled at the man who still lay stunned against the chairs.

“Aunt?” Swallow asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“You’re safe, little love,” Lady murmured, rocking him as she held him and pet his curls.

Dove dropped to his knees, pinning Sir William’s chest to the floor with them. “No one within six streets of here will believe you if you tell them I did it,” he said with a harsh laugh, his free hand making quick work of the man’s trousers. He’d seen a doctor do this to an old man once when a hard growth had developed. Dove used the knife to flip the man’s limp prick out of his way.

Sir William started to struggle and Dove nicked him.

“Hold still or I’ll cut it all off you bastard,” Dove hissed.

Sir William didn’t comply, but two more of Dove’s sparrows arrived to solve the problem. One of them had seen what Sir William tried to do to his fellows the first time Dove had to warn the man off. The sparrows grabbed a leg each, holding Sir William down so Dove could castrate him with a quick flick of his blade.

The sparrows got his britches done up again while Dove leaned down close to his face.

“You ever breathe a word about anyone in this room being involved in how this happened, and I will make sure that your father, the church, and the constables find out exactly what you tried to do to my lads.”

Dove stood, letting his sparrows drag the man out of the room and into the alley. They’d make sure he made it into a hackney headed home.

Dove set the knife on the table. There was surprisingly little blood on it. He went to check on his sparrows, finding two of them coming around again.

“He’s on his way home,” one sparrow said from behind Dove. “We’ll take care of them and get them home too. You look after Swallow and Lady.”

Dove nodded his thanks and closed the door behind himself.

Swallow was practically curled in Lady’s lap but he wasn’t crying and didn’t look visibly hurt.

“Swallow?” Dove asked quietly as he approached the bed.

Large gray eyes turned to him and Dove froze. The look of wonder in those eyes both gratifying and confusing him.

“Little love?” Lady murmured.

“He said he was going to finish what he started,” Swallow said, still looking at Dove. “Said he’d show you want it meant to lose what was yours.”

“Swallow,” Dove managed to get out before his voice stuck in his throat. How had Sir William come to that conclusion? Did Swallow even know what the man had meant?

“Why did he think I was yours?” Swallow asked, his forehead crinkling as he tried to puzzle it out on his own.

“Because he doesn’t understand anything put possession,” Dove answered, hoping it would be enough for Swallow.

“He said he’d…” Swallow buried his face against Lady, so Dove didn’t catch the words, but Lady’s arms tightened around Swallow in reaction.

Dove finally found the will to move again and knelt on the floor beside them.

“He wouldn’t have known how to do that, little love,” Lady reassured the boy. “Thinks he can, but I know different.”

Dove glanced up at her and she shook her head slightly. Looking back down at Swallow, Dove reached out to comfort him, but stopped short, glancing up at Lady again. He didn’t want to seem like he was breaking that promise.

Lady nodded, smiling weakly.

“He’ll never come near you again, Swallow,” Dove promised, gently stroking the boy’s back.

“Will you get in trouble for what you did?” Swallow asked, turning his head to look at Dove.

“No. He’ll never admit a lad of seventeen did that to him. He’ll invent some story to hide his shame and end up shipped off to become a monk or some such thing.”

“I’m glad,” Swallow said, turning away again to huddle against Lady.

“Stay here tonight, little love,” Lady instructed. “They can keep you safe. I don’t trust the master after all that’s happened today.”

Dove knew the master would never lay a hand on either of them again, but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to give up a chance to stay close to Swallow.

There was a light rap on the door followed by two sharp knocks. Dove got to his feet and stepped back before calling for his sparrows to come in.

“Everyone’s fine,” the first said, only glancing at the woman and boy on the bed.

“Grizella slipped over to ask after them,” the other added. “We told her they were safe and we’d let her know if they weren’t coming home tonight.”

“You’re good lads,” Dove answered, giving them both a nod. “Arrange for a couple of sparrows to be on the door tonight. However you need to work out the shifts. Lady will be going back across the alley, but Swallow’s staying with us.”

“Expecting trouble from the master?” the first sparrow asked.

“I don’t trust him,” Lady answered for Dove.

“Neither do we,” the second sparrow agreed.

“Try to sleep, little love,” Lady murmured to her nephew. “You know you’re safe here,” she added. “I’ll come back in the morning to get you.”

Swallow just nodded against her chest before pulling away to sit on his own.

Dove motioned his sparrows out of the room and followed them, waiting for Lady before closing the door.

“See her inside, then find some lads to watch the door tonight,” he ordered. “I’ll watch it until they get here.”

Lady gave him the regal nod of acknowledgement that helped earn her and her sister their names before following the two sparrows out into the alley.

Dove turned when the door creaked open behind him.

Swallow stood in the doorway, his feet bare and his shirt ripped at the shoulder, exposing his pale skin.

“I’ll be in as soon as there’s someone to watch the door for us,” Dove assured him.

“Tonight’s the first time I’ve really been alone,” Swallow answered.

“We won’t leave you alone again,” Dove promised, touching his arm lightly. “You can wait with me if you want.”

Swallow nodded, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe and hanging onto the door with both hands.

Dove turned away before he could do anything to betray himself. They didn’t have to wait long before two of his sparrows arrived.

“We’ll make sure no one gets in tonight,” the taller of the two promised.

“Good lads,” Dove said with a smile for them. “I’ll be staying just in case.”

“Course, Dove,” the second answered.

“Get some sleep,” Dove encouraged Swallow as they turned into the room. “He won’t be back for you.”

Swallow nodded and crawled onto the bed, actually burrowing under the blankets this time. Dove shed his shoes and his shirt before following, carefully keeping some distance between himself and the smaller lad.

Swallow just stared at the wall. He hadn’t slept in the same bed with anyone since his aunt declared him big enough for his own bed. Before that, one of his aunties would curl up around him during the day. He missed the comfort of their warmth and the safety of their shared room. It was too quiet in this one, and he could still feel his heart beating in his ears.

A shudder ran through Swallow as he remembered the foul breath of Sir William and the horrible things he’d said he’d do.

“Alright, Swallow?” Dove asked, his hand resting on Swallow’s blanket covered arm.

“No,” Swallow answered. He couldn’t get the words Sir William said out of his head.

“How can I help?” Dove asked, stroking gently down his arm.

“I don’t understand what he said,” Swallow murmured back. The tone had told him that whatever it was, he should have been frightened, but just like before, when Sir William grabbed him in the dressing room, part of his brain told him it felt good while another screamed that it was wrong and vile.

“Maybe I can explain if you tell me,” Dove offered, pulling his hand back.

Swallow rolled onto his back, which put him close enough to Dove that he could feel his warmth.

“He said he’d make a whore out of me, too,” Swallow started. “Show my master where my real value was.” He didn’t understand how he could be a whore, only women were whores.

“He was going to use you the way he would a whore, and there are plenty of men like him that would pay for the privilege,” Dove explained. That didn’t seem so difficult to put together.

“He said he was going to…” Swallow trailed off, licking his lips nervously. Dove seemed to know what Sir William had wanted. Could he just ask that and not have to repeat the words? He could still hear them whispered against his ear.

_“I’m going to take that sweet little arse of yours and show that white-haired bastard what it means to have something taken away from him. I bet you’re one of the sick little ones that likes it, too, and you’ll splatter your seed all over the sheets for him to see when he finds you.”_

Swallow shuddered again, feeling a little sick.

“You can tell me,” Dove encouraged. “They’re his words, not yours.”

Swallow nodded, and told Dove what Sir William had whispered in his ear right before Dove came in to rescue him.

Dove closed his eyes, as Swallow whispered in the dim light. His fists clenched, and he wanted nothing more than to have cut off the rest of Sir William’s manhood while he was at it.

“What did he mean?” Swallow asked hesitantly.

“There are men who like to take their pleasure from someone’s arse rather than a woman’s sex,” Dove explained softly. “Do you understand that part?”

Swallow nodded, his eyes wide and focused on the ceiling.

“I’ve heard that when that someone is male and the other man does it right, the receiving party will spill their seed from the pleasure of it.” Dove happened to know it was true and felt amazing, but admitting such a thing could get him killed.

“So he thought you were doing that to me?” Swallow asked, his eyes flicking to Dove before returning to the ceiling.

“I don’t know why,” Dove answered. If Lady and Sir William knew he was attracted to Swallow, then who else had figured it out?

“Because he only understands the way he would be,” Swallow answered. “He doesn’t understand that there are other reasons to protect people.”

“You’re probably right,” Dove answered, hoping it was the truth. 

“I don’t know if I can sleep,” Swallow said into the silence.

“Close your eyes and try,” Dove encouraged.

Swallow rolled over again, and it took all of Dove’s willpower not to wrap himself around the smaller boy. He settled for watching him until his breath evened out into sleep. After gently stroking Swallow’s curls once, Dove closed his own eyes and let himself drift off, knowing his sparrows would wake him if anything happened.


	10. Chapter 9 – Three months later – Discovering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nemmo” is a slang term for a woman.  
> WARNING: The characters in this chapter are underage by modern standard (but not by the standards of the time period in which the story is set). If this will bother you, I recommend skipping this chapter, and the next one too.

Swallow ducked across the alley for the third night in a row. Ever since the incident with Sir William a couple months prior, his aunt sent him to the inn to spend time with Dove and his sparrows whenever certain customers came. Swallow didn’t mind. He’d grown to like a lot of the sparrows and they were kind to him, teaching him how to fight and play cards and telling stories about their exploits with the local girls.

The more he heard about their experiences with girls, the more nervous he became about ever lying with one. A lot of the boys would get excited just listening to or recounting the stories, but Swallow never did. He was old enough, he knew what it felt like to be aroused and had woken some mornings to find his seed damp on the blankets, but hearing about the women the other lads had been with, or even catching glimpses of his auntie’s changing, never aroused him.

The room at the inn was empty when he got there, so he settled at the table folding his arms to pillow his head. Someone would be along after a while.

Dove stopped in the doorway when he saw Swallow sitting at the table alone. He shut the door as Swallow lifted his head and smiled. The two hadn’t seen each other for almost a fortnight.

“They still sending you away some nights?” Dove asked, walking into the room. He’d told the lads to stay away tonight because he needed a little time to get his lord out of his head. Having Swallow here would do that quite nicely, but the thoughts that replaced those of his lord were just as troublesome.

“There are customers they don’t trust,” Swallow said with a shrug.

“Well, we can’t have any more of them getting ideas now can we?” Dove asked, trying to make light of it.

Swallow didn’t answer. He studied Dove as the older lad walked into the room. Dove never told stories about lying with girls. He’d explained how a man could have another man the way he would a woman.

“Something on your mind, Swallow?” Dove asked, seeing the intense look in the lad’s gray eyes as they followed him.

“I don’t understand the others,” Swallow admitted. “How they can always go on about girls.”

“In what way?” Dove asked, staying cautious. Swallow was still young enough to not be very interested. Some of his lads hadn’t understood the appeal until they were fifteen or sixteen. Dove had discovered things at eleven when he first met his lord.

Swallow looked away.

“Whatever it is, I won’t tell anyone. I swear,” Dove said, taking the last step toward the table and resting a hand on Swallow’s shoulder. “It won’t change anything, either,” he promised.

“The fascination with girls. They talk about them like they’d die without one, but I just don’t get it. Is there something wrong with me?”

Swallow’s eyes stayed fixed on the table, not wanting to see the look Dove gave him because it couldn’t be good.

“Probably not,” Dove answered. “You’ve gotten excited like the lads do about girls before, haven’t you?”

Swallow nodded.

“What were you thinking or dreaming when it happened?” Dove asked, hoping Swallow wouldn’t be too shy to share.

“I don’t remember my dreams,” Swallow said.

“And it’s never happened when you weren’t dreaming?” Dove persisted, wondering if Swallow was trying to hide what it was that aroused him.

“It happened a couple times when I was helping a customer dress,” Swallow confessed. That particular customer was rather small for a man and had hair the same color as Dove’s. Swallow wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made him nervous.

“Was it because you saw the woman they were with? Or thought about what they’d been doing?” Dove questioned, not wanting to assume the wrong thing because it was what he wanted the truth to be.

“No,” Swallow whispered.

“Was it because you were thinking about the customer?” Dove asked next.

Swallow looked up at him finally, the shame burning across his cheeks answer enough to the question.

“It’s alright, Swallow,” Dove promised, squeezing the hand on his shoulder. “It’s no worse than what brought us into the world, and like that, as long as you keep it a secret everything is fine.”

“But I don’t understand,” Swallow protested, his forehead crinkling.

“You hadn’t thought you might fancy a bloke instead of a nemmo?” Dove asked, holding his eyes.

Swallow blinked a few times, startled by how calm Dove was about the idea. He’d cut Sir William’s bollocks off for liking boys instead of women.

“Do you want to find out?” Dove asked, hoping he was making the right decision.

“Yes,” Swallow managed to whisper.

“Do you trust me?” Dove continued.

“Of course,” was the quick reply. Dove had saved him from Sir William and still protected him from anyone threatening.

Dove let his other hand cup Swallow’s cheek. “Pull away and it’s all over and we never have to talk about it again, right?”

“Right,” Swallow answered, still not understanding what was about to happen.

Dove leaned down and kissed Swallow softly on the mouth. When Swallow didn’t pull away, he pressed more firmly.

Swallow felt hot all over as Dove pressed their lips together, his hands suddenly warm weights against Swallow’s skin. It was delicious and exciting and he could feel his manhood starting to grow.

Dove was thrilled when Swallow didn’t pull away. He couldn’t hold back anymore and let his tongue part Swallow’s lips so he could explore and taste him even if it made Swallow push him away.

The warm appendage startled Swallow at first, but it was pleasant having it glide teasingly across his own tongue, teeth, and mouth.

Dove felt the thrill from his head to his toes when Swallow’s hands clasped his arms, drawing him closer instead of pushing him away. Savoring the kiss for another moment, Dove regretted having to pull away, smiling at Swallow’s attempt to follow.

“I think you fancy blokes,” Dove murmured, glancing at Swallow’s lap and the obvious excitement of the younger lad.

“Do you?” Swallow asked in some confusion, still looking at Dove’s face.

“It’s a mite obvious,” Dove said, smiling and looking down at his own groin.

Swallow’s eyes followed and he gulped when he saw how much Dove had enjoyed kissing him.

“Does that mean?” Swallow wasn’t even sure how to finish the question.

“I was hoping maybe you would,” Dove confessed, stroking Swallow’s cheek. “I’d convinced myself I’d never get to touch you.”

“You want to touch me?” Swallow asked, still a little confused about how this could possibly work.

“Let me show you?” Dove requested, needing to hear Swallow giving him permission. He wouldn’t push if the lad didn’t want to explore with him, but it would be safer for Swallow not to have to find anyone else to learn from.

“Please?” Swallow asked, getting to his feet.

“Come to bed then,” Dove invited, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt. He’d leave his britches on to keep himself out of trouble.

Swallow followed his example and went to the bed. He was about to get in when Dove slid arms around from behind him, holding him close for a moment. Swallow breathed a little faster. Dove’s chest was smooth and warm against his back and Dove’s manhood was pressing firmly against the top of his arse.

Dove kissed Swallow’s hair before unlacing his trousers and slipping them down over slim hips. He fought the urge to wrap his hands around the prick that he revealed, wanting Swallow to explore on his own first. Reaching down a bit, Dove flipped the blankets back, urging Swallow onto the bed with gentle hands on his hips.

Swallow ended up lying on his back with Dove propped on an elbow beside him.

“Touch yourself,” Dove instructed. It wasn’t the first time he’d encouraged one of the lads to discover what felt good. Tonight was the first time he let his fingers trail across the lad’s chest while he did it.

Swallow made little whimpering noises as he explored his own manhood, learning that the most sensitive part was the bit under the sheath of skin at the top.

“Do you want suggestions?” Dove asked, tracing Swallow’s ear with his nose.

“Please,” Swallow answered, his eyes devouring Dove.

Swallow had expected words or for Dove to show him, not for Dove’s hand to cover his own where it still wrapped loosely around his manhood.

Swallow moaned, his eyes squeezing shut when Dove pumped their hands gently.

“Do that the whole length of it,” Dove instructed, pulling his hand away. “You’ll find the rhythm you like,” he added, nuzzling Swallow’s throat.

He was right, and the rhythm that felt so incredibly good was quick and firm.

Dove watched as Swallow brought himself closer, his hand still brushing over the other lad’s chest. He was hard enough that it hurt, but he didn’t want to change a thing as he watched Swallow’s swiftly pumping hand and listened to his quickening breaths.

Swallow cried out when his body tingled and then shot his seed into the air above them only for it to fall back onto his hand and stomach.

Dove leaned over and kissed him tenderly after Swallow lay panting for a moment. “Rest,” he instructed. “You can explore more tomorrow.”

Swallow rolled into Dove, instead of away like he used to. It pressed him against Dove from chest to knees so he could feel how excited his companion was.

“Can I watch you?” Swallow asked, ducking his head.

“You want to?” Dove asked, cautious again.

“Yes, please,” Swallow answered, and he watched hungrily as Dove lowered his britches and pushed them out of the bed.

It only took a few quick, firm strokes for Dove to find his own release. Swallow’s eyes on him made it all the more exciting. Dove leaned up to claim Swallow’s lips one more time before rolling him onto his other side and folding himself around the smaller lad.

Dove kissed Swallow’s hair, hoping this was the beginning of something they would be able to enjoy together.


	11. Chapter 10 – Fifteen years old – Stolen Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The characters in this chapter are underage by modern standard (but not by the standards of the time period in which the story is set). If consensual sex between them will bother you, I recommend skipping this chapter.

Swallow darted across the alley and into the inn. He could feel the nerves coiled in his belly. They always did when he knew Dove was going to be alone at the inn. After four months, he felt secure that his aunties suspected nothing and that the lads would never question Dove, but he worried about someone else seeing something to give them away. Dove acted exactly as he always had when there were others around, but Swallow worried he would look at Dove the wrong way.

He slipped into the dark room and moved to light the lantern by the bed. When he got to it, the hood was closed, and when he raised it, light spilled out into the room.

“You’re getting so quiet, Swallow,” Dove said, smiling from where he sat at the table.

Swallow moved to join him, smiling as the older lad’s arms circled his waist, pulling him down to sit on Dove’s lap.

“You’re teaching me all sorts of things,” Swallow answered, brushing his lips lightly over Dove’s. A thrill sang through every inch of his skin as Dove pulled him closer, one hand under his shirt and the other tangling in his curls as they kissed hungrily. It had been almost a fortnight since Dove had come to the inn. The lads said he was visiting his lady love and Swallow wondered where he really went when he disappeared.

“I missed you,” Dove murmured against Swallow’s lips. He could never leave his lord, but he wanted more than anything to have that much uninterrupted time with his Swallow.

“I missed you, too,” Swallow answered, smiling and nuzzling Dove’s neck just the way he liked.

Dove inhaled sharply, tightening his grip on Swallow’s curls to still his head. It had been too long again and he couldn’t take much teasing tonight, as much as he usually loved to let Swallow explore.

“What’s wrong?” Swallow asked, gently pulling his head back so Dove wouldn’t pull his hair while he did it.

“I’m just too eager tonight, my love,” Dove whispered, releasing the velvety curls and kissing Swallow’s cheek.

“Then come to bed,” Swallow replied, hopping off Dove’s lap and pulling off his shirt as he kicked off his shoes.

Dove groaned as he watched his lover strip quickly down and crawl into the bed. His own clothes made a hurried trip to the floor, and he crawled over Swallow, kissing him firmly as one hand brushed down his chest to burry in wiry curls.

Swallow’s hand wrapped around Dove’s prick, squeezing gently and drawing another deep groan from the older lad’s throat.

The kiss, which had been deep and passionate already, was suddenly something else as Dove’s desire got the better of him. He pressed all his weight down on his younger lover, trapping Swallow’s arms between them and pinning him to the bed. Not satisfied with just his mouth, Dove kissed and licked and bit down Swallow’s throat to his shoulder.

Swallow’s soft moan of pleasure brought Dove back enough to gaze down at the glittering gray eyes of the lad beneath him.

“You don’t have to stop,” Swallow told him in a breathy voice.

“You’re enjoying this?” Dove asked, easing back even more. He could see the red marks his teeth had left on Swallow’s neck. What if they left bruises?

“Yes,” Swallow answered, drawing his hands up Dove’s chest to grip his shoulders and pull him back down. “I missed you, and the way you’re acting shows me how much you missed me, too.”

Dove buried his face against Swallow’s neck. How could he have let himself hurt his lover? Even in passion it was wrong to hurt someone you loved.

“It’s alright,” Swallow soothed, stroking Dove’s back with one hand and holding him tightly around the waist with the other arm.

Dove nodded, kissing Swallow’s neck.

“Quicken me,” Swallow urged, using their private term for it and rubbing his cheek against Dove’s hair.

Dove sucked two fingers into his mouth then shifted, reaching between them. He stayed mostly lying on Swallow but gave himself enough room to slip an arm around to Swallow’s arse as the younger lad bent his leg, giving Dove access to the hidden treasure his fingers sought.

Swallow moaned and wiggled while Dove carefully stretched him. Not for the first time, Dove wished he’d filched some of the oil his lord used.

“Please,” Swallow begged, his breath tickling Dove’s ear.

Swallow gasped when Dove pulled back and rolled him over, pulling him up onto his knees. He heard Dove spit a moment before pushing inside him. Stretching around Dove’s prick burned, and Swallow moaned in pleasure. He loved when Dove got forceful and demanding with him.

Dove panted at how tight Swallow was around him. It had been far too long. He forced himself in and out of that tight heat, glorying in the moans and whimpers of his lover.

Swallow cried out when Dove hit that spot deep inside that sent pleasure rushing through him.

Dove laughed in delight, repeating the stroke again and earning another small cry from his Swallow. Remembering the intensity of feeling when his lord did the same thing to him, Dove relentlessly slammed into that spot with quick short strokes.

They both cried out when Swallow’s muscles rippled around Dove as his seed spilled onto the bed beneath them. Dove had to bite back a scream as his seed burst out of him in powerful spasms.

Collapsing over his lover, Dove tried not to crush the smaller lad.

Swallow loved the weight pressing him down and the feel of Dove as he softened but didn’t slip out yet. He wanted to never have to leave this room.

“I love you, my Swallow,” Dove murmured in his lover’s ear.

“I love you too, my Dove,” Swallow answered, smiling happily. It was the first time they’d said it outright.


	12. Chapter 11 – The next day – Loss

“Where is he?” his aunt called, rushing into the room they all shared with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“He’s right there,” Grizella said, pointing to where Swallow slept in his own bed.

“What’s wrong?” Eliza asked, following the crying blonde as she hurried to her nephew and drew him into her arms.

“What?” the boy asked sleepily as he woke in his aunt’s arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” his aunt sobbed into his hair, her arms almost suffocatingly tight.

“What happened?” Eliza repeated, putting her arms around them both.

“The tavern boys,” his aunt sobbed into Swallow’s hair. “They caught two lads in one of the alleys.”

“Caught them at what?” Grizella asked, stroking his aunt’s golden curls.

“They strung them up from the tavern sign,” his aunt murmured. “They carved ‘catamite’ into one of them.”

“Oh, luv,” Eliza murmured, holding the woman tighter. “Who told you such a horrible thing?”

“The sparrows,” his aunt answered, raising her head and meeting Grizella’s startled eyes. “They said they didn’t know the bigger lad or how he got Dove into that alley.”

Swallow stopped breathing.

“They didn’t know who survived the afternoon. Several of their fellows tried to stop the tavern boys and save Dove, and none of them had seen my little love since last night at the inn.”

“Oh, luv,” Eliza crooned. “He’s safe. We’ll keep him safe.”

His aunt held him close, bowing her head so her lips were next to his ear. “I’m so sorry, my little love,” she whispered. “I know what he meant to you.”

Swallow started. His aunt had known? How?

“We’ll protect you, little love,” she promised.

Swallow nodded, wrapping his arms around his aunt. He wouldn’t cry. No one else had to ever know what Dove really meant to him.


	13. Chapter 12 – Sixteen years old – Sold

“You can’t do this,” his aunt yelled, her voice carrying through the entire lower level of the place.

Swallow heard the sound of the slap as he crept to the door of the parlor.

“You will hold you tongue,” the master barked down at her where she lay in a heap on the floor. “He’s given good coin and never brings anyone back hurt. You be grateful I don’t let some ruffian have him for a few shillings.”

“Let me go in his place,” his aunt begged. “Please.”

“The bargains already made,” the master answered. “The boy will be ready at dusk and he will do as he’s told.”

Swallow shrank back into the hall, hoping the master hadn’t seen him. Hurrying back to the room he told his aunties what he’d seen. Eliza clutched Swallow to her, as Grizella and two other girls went to retrieve his aunt.

The blonde beauty was still crying when they supported her into the room and laid her on her own bed.

“What did the master do?” Grizella asked, stroking the distraught woman’s hair.

“He’s sold my little love,” his aunt sobbed, reaching for him.

Eliza let him go to her, but they all stayed close to hear what had happened.

“You’ll come back in a fortnight,” his aunt told him, stroking his hand between hers. “The man never sends anyone back hurt, but he’s never asked for a lad before.”

“Where am I going?” Swallow asked. He kept his own fear out of his voice, hoping to reassure his aunt.

“I don’t know,” she said heavily. “His man will come at sunset to collect you and bring you back in a fortnight.”

“You said he never sends anyone back hurt,” Swallow reminded her gently.

“But he’s always taken a woman before. Someone already in our profession.”

Swallow fought to keep his own reaction off his face. Was he being given to the man as a whore?

“Is this the one that Spanish fellow serves?” Eliza asked softly, resting her hand on Swallow’s shoulder.

“Yes,” his aunt replied, gazing up at the other woman.

“The Spaniard likes to talk,” Eliza said, sitting beside Swallow. “He loves his master,” she continued, stroking his aunt’s curls. “Says that he’s a gentle person but can’t always show it. It’s only when they go to the country cottage that they can truly be themselves. His master always takes a companion when they go.”

“But we’re supposed to keep him safe,” his aunt protested.

“And we will, luv,” Eliza promised. “We have time to teach him what he needs to know.”

“Eliza,” Grizella exclaimed, shocked at the suggestion.

“What I need to know?” Swallow asked, meeting Eliza’s eyes.

“I don’t know if he’ll touch you, but if he does, I can teach you ways to make it beautiful and not painful.”

His aunt sobbed, pulling him closer as she curled around him.

“Don’t cry,” Swallow pleaded, stroking his aunt’s hair. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“Let me teach him, luv,” Eliza begged. She wouldn’t go against his aunt in something like this.

His aunt shook her head. “He already knows,” she murmured through the tears.

Swallow tensed, waiting for their reaction.

“What?” Grizella cried, startled again.

“Someone taught you?” Eliza asked, her eyes meeting Swallows.

Swallow nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. So far she didn’t look disgusted or horrified.

“Dove,” Eliza murmured, realizing why his aunt had been so upset the previous summer when the white-haired boy was killed so brutally.

Swallow didn’t respond. It still hurt to think about Dove and what happened to him.

“Don’t worry, luv,” Eliza said, looking back down at his aunt. “They won’t hurt him.” She had sworn never to tell anyone about the Spaniard’s master. The man was beautiful and sensual and intoxicating. He was also the gentlest customer she’d ever had.

Swallow petted his aunt’s hair until she fell asleep. Eliza helped him dress in his fine suit and walked with him to the parlor where the master waited with the Spaniard.

“I’ll expect him returned in a fortnight,” the master said when the Spaniard handed over a purse heavy with coins.

“We will bring him back as agreed,” the Spaniard answered, his eyes moving over the young man. He knew his master would be pleased with him.

“We’ll see you in a fortnight, luv,” Eliza said kissing Swallow’s curls. She met the Spaniard’s eyes as she straightened, and he bowed to her. He could see the determination in her eyes and the possessive way she kept her hands on the young man.

“Until then,” Swallow answered, stepping away from Eliza to follow the tall Spaniard. A coach waited outside for them, and Swallow was surprised to find the seat comfortable and the gentle rocking soothing as they started on their way.

“Eliza cares for you very much,” the Spaniard observed.

“They all do,” Swallow answered. They were the only family he had, his aunt and the other women.

“I hope they will not worry over much,” the Spaniard replied.

Swallow nodded. He knew his aunt would be beside herself the entire fortnight he was gone.

“Rest,” the Spaniard advised. “I will wake you when we arrive.”

Swallow nodded, resting his head and shoulder against the side of the coach and closing his eyes. He didn’t expect to sleep, he rarely did outside his room now.

The Spaniard smiled as the lad drifted off to sleep. It was such a small spell, but useful in concealing the location of his master’s cottage. Eliza was the only person in the world who knew of its existence without having seen it. The others could never remember much about the place after his master altered their memories.


	14. Chapter 13 – Later that night – First Meeting

Swallow woke lying on a soft couch in a strange room. Sitting up slowly, he took in his surroundings. He’d never seen such fine things before.

“Ah, you are awake,” the Spaniard said as he walked into the room, smiling at the wonder on the lad’s face.

Swallow turned to look at him.

“Come meet my master,” he invited, holding out his hand to the young man.

Swallow stood and walked to join him but didn’t take the other man’s hand. Since Dove, he avoided touching other men unless he had to.

“This way,” the Spaniard invited, curious about the lad’s hesitancy.

Swallow’s eyes remained wide as they walked down the hall. When the Spaniard opened another door and ushered him into a room, Swallow didn’t realize at first that it was a bedroom because the man sitting at a desk along the wall was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

His hair, which was such a pale blond that it was almost white, fell in waves down to his shoulders and his soft brown eyes watched Swallow as he took a few steps into the room. The man stood, the front of his robe hanging open to reveal a smooth pale chest and the loose trousers that matched the robe.

“Welcome to my home,” he greeted, smiling as the lad before him shivered from the effects of his voice. “I am Nedeljko and you have already met Sofronio.”

Swallow nodded, unable to form words as he stared at the beautiful man approaching him.

“What may I call you?” Nedeljko asked gently, keeping his voice in check this time.

The lad licked dry lips before answering. “Swallow, sir,” he murmured.

Nedeljko smiled. He’d heard a rumor about a pair of lads that went by the names of birds. His servant had been too late to bring the older lad to him and no one seemed to know who the boy’s lover had been.

“Come, Swallow, sit with me,” Nedeljko invited.

Swallow sat beside the man on the large bed, suddenly intensely nervous.

Nedeljko used a gentle finger to tilt Swallow’s chin up, meeting the boy’s eyes.

Swallow watched as the soft brown eyes seemed to dance with an inner fire before his world disappeared in a pleasant haze.


	15. Chapter 14 – Nine days later – A Gift of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is another chapter where if underage is going to bother you, you may want to skip it.

Swallow slept during the days in a heavenly soft bed. The Spaniard woke him before sunset for a large meal before giving him clothes for the night and taking him to the bedroom to wait. It had been over a week and still Swallow never remembered much of the time he spent with Nedeljko at night. He had vague memories of pleasure and smooth skin on his own but nothing solid enough to be certain of anything.

“Swallow,” Nedeljko greeted with a smile as he glided into the room. He licked his lips as he gazed at the lad before him.

His servant had selected his favorite style for tonight. Fitted brown britches adorned the lad’s shapely legs and a loose tunic of green wool hung almost to his knees, belted around the waist with a gold cord. It reminded Nedeljko of what he wore in his own youth when his first lover discovered him.

“You do not remember much, do you, my little bird?” he asked, stroking a hand through the velvety curls before sitting beside Swallow on the bed.

“No, sir,” he answered nervously.

“Tonight will be my gift to you, but you may never share it with anyone,” Nedeljko said. “You will remember tonight,” he added, leaning down to kiss the boy’s soft, wide mouth.

Swallow moaned, some part of him remembering the gentle touch and arching eagerly into it.

Nedeljko chuckled as he drew back, making quick work of removing both their clothes. “I will give you so much to remember,” he murmured into the lad’s ear as he shifted him further onto the bed.

Swallow’s heart raced as Nedeljko covered him with his body, the weight delicious.

Nedeljko smiled, having discovered very early on that his little bird liked to be pinned to the bed as often as possible.

Oiled fingers found Swallow’s hidden furl and glided easily inside. Nedeljko relished how relaxed the lad was after nine days in his bed. It would take little preparation to get the sweet boy where they both wanted him to be.

Swallow clutched at Nedeljko’s arms when firm hands gripped his calves and shifted his legs so that they bent at the knee and spread wide under Nedeljko’s weight.

“Trust me, little bird,” Nedeljko murmured in his ear. “You always find this wonderful,” he added just before pushing his prick deep into the lad’s tight channel.

Swallow cried out, the burning fullness sending shivers through him. He loved the sensation of being spread wide beneath his lover.

Nedeljko did not give Swallow time to adjust, but moved swiftly inside the tight heat he’d claimed once more. He reveled in the cries of the lad below him as the combination of pain and the pleasant stimulation deep inside him took his mind away. Nedeljko loved to watch his face as the ecstasy played across it. Tonight it took only moments before Swallow’s fingers dug into his arms and his slim hips bucked wildly as his seed splashed over their bellies.

Nedeljko did not stop to give him time to recover. The third night he’d had the lad, his control had been in shreds and he’d kept going like this. When he regained enough control to realize what he was doing, he’d planned to stop, but a second orgasm washed through the lad and as Nedeljko continued, a third and then a fourth.

Tonight Nedeljko did not allow himself release until the lovely bird beneath him was shrieking and shuddering through a sixth orgasm that was quickly followed by a seventh as Nedeljko flexed his power and shared the pleasure of his own release with the form dancing beneath him.

When they were both still again, Nedeljko pulled back from the beautiful lad and curled around him, stroking those velvety curls until Swallow fell into an exhausted sleep.

“You will harm him if you continue doing that,” his servant informed him as he brought food for when the lad woke.

“He will remember tonight,” Nedeljko explained. “I will not tire him so again.”

“You will not be able to resist it,” Sofronio countered. “Though I believe Eliza will forgive us. Just remember he must bear no marks when we return him or the entire house of women will be brought down around my ears.”

“He will bear no marks to show them,” Nedeljko promised, his hand gliding down the front of the young man to trace the neat puncture marks on the lad’s thighs. Women that treated him as a child of their own would not look there for wounds.

“Just make sure he eats most of it,” his servant commanded before leaving the room. Nedeljko chuckled, letting himself drift in contentment as Swallow slumbered in his embrace.


	16. Chapter 15 – Five days later, and later still – You Surprise Me

As the Spaniard promised, Swallow returned a fortnight after he left. Eliza and his aunt both inspected him thoroughly, but neither found the tiny marks on his inner thighs. From the one night he clearly remembered, he was glad they didn’t. He would be hard pressed to explain them in a way that wouldn’t frighten the women. He’d thought the tales of beings who fed on blood were just stories to frighten children.

He continued to play his role as escort and manservant within the master’s business. The following spring, the Spaniard came again to buy him for Nedeljko. This time he would be gone an entire month. Even his aunt didn’t object when she saw the excitement in his eyes when she told him.

Swallow was disappointed to be left with the memory of only a single night when he returned, but the promise that Nedeljko would ask for him again the following spring bolstered him. Perhaps it was the memory of those two nights that Nedeljko had left him that kept Swallow from being afraid when he met another who sustained himself on blood.

“You surprise me,” the handsome man with hair like burnished gold said as he led Swallow to a room at the back of the inn. He’d introduced himself as Agron and hadn’t even asked him anything, just looked in Swallow’s eyes. Swallow had followed without knowing why he did.

Agron had been watching the lad for some time now and was intrigued by the easy manner paired with such emotional reserve.

Swallow simply nodded, sitting on the bed when they arrived in the room.

“You have no fear of me,” the man observed, gazing down into those soft gray eyes.

“I don’t,” Swallow agreed. He might be considered sick and depraved for his own desires, but the man before him would be seen as a devil come to damn them all.

Swallow smiled when he saw the man’s gray green eyes glow with fire and felt the familiar pleasure that followed.

Agron gazed into the lad’s soul and saw the nights that even Swallow didn’t recall. He would have to speak with Nedeljko about his habits. Taking a human from London for any length of time was ill advised.

Arranging the lovely lad on the bed, Agron drank from the crook of his arm. This one was sweet and he could feel the potential in the lad. Even if he would never be truly powerful, he would be something special. Something worth preserving.

Agron found the lad again the next night, having to content himself with a discreet feeding in the alley beside the brothel where the boy lived. On the third night, Agron drank more deeply from the boy and then let him taste a small amount of his own blood before returning him home with a small gold ring around one finger. With luck, the lad would have time to grow into a stunning man before his life was snatched away, but at least Agron was assured that when that life ended, the lad would remain. He sent one of his own foxes to find employment in the area so he could keep track of the boy and be nearby when needed. However the lad’s life ended, Agron would be there to sustain the life that would rise from that death.


	17. Epilogue – Tomorrow Night’s Plan – 1706

“Thank you, Jeremiah,” Agron says, holding the other man close for another moment. The boy would be an excellent addition to his little family.

“It is nothing,” Jeremiah replies, though he is exhausted from scrying. Even having drawn on Agron’s power, the visions leave him drained.

“I will feed before dawn, but first, I will see you settled in your bed and send someone with food for you.”

“Yes, master,” Jeremiah says, smiling up at Agron. The title has become a joke between them, since Agron treats him as a friend, confidant, and equal, more than the tool so many masters make of their Servants.

Agron returns the smile and helps his Servant to bed. Tomorrow night, he will go find the brothel where the lad lives and see him in the flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my story. I hope you enjoyed it. I have more stories to come, but will be taking a break from posting for National Novel Writing Month, so you can expect those in December.


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